Airing
by death-in-the-orchard
Summary: Abraham van Hellsing's time - Alucard takes advantage of some unprepared Hellsing soldiers in the hope of getting a taste of freedom.


_Found this buried in my files today. From November 2018. Thought it was fun._

* * *

They spoke in the stone corridor. It was cold, the air heavy with old moisture and even older smells.

The creature that rested limply against the wall of his cell did not move, though his eyes opened. They had passed his door hundreds of times; they had left him there, _Van Hellsing _had left him there to gather dust for weeks.

But the insertion and turning of a key jarred the creature, as though a sudden pulse of life had shaken his dead body. Raising his head without turning it from the wall opposite him, Alucard stared at the door with one eye. He dared not turn his head. He could not move. Brimming anticipation made the eye quiver, while the rest of his body remained transfixed.

His eyes widened when the voices rose, and light from the corridor pierced his stagnant darkness. And then he saw it - the whites of a living man's eyes.

The men shouted, stumbling wherever they could to dodge the beast when it suddenly swept over their heads, under the top of the doorframe, climbing like some kind of spider. The beast scrambled over the wall like any panicked spider might, but then, quite unlike a spider, he dusted into a whirling shadow that filled the corridor for an instant. The shadow vanished, but left the air dry. The men's lungs felt dry as they breathed, immobilized by the shocked silence that held them in place.

But they came to, and looking at one another without comprehension, they started to jog and then run at a measured pace, speaking as they pursued the vampire.

"What in God's name's gotten into him?" The man made a whooshing sound with his mouth as his hands poorly imitated the vampire's flight. Others joined in when he laughed at the absurdity.

The highest-ranking soldier winced and cocked his head thoughtfully. He filled his lungs, and sighed with a shake of his head. "He hasn't been fed since… He shouldn't be able to move like that, not after… It's been nearly two months."

"You tell me. I don't keep track of the commander's pet." More chuckles.

The men leading the pursuit called over their shoulders, "To the entrance- right?"

The officer snorted, "Where else? If he wants to play hide and seek again, we'll have to fetch the commander. But the vampire isn't fool enough to repeat that."

A gruff addition came, "Desperate enough."

"Perhaps, but I doubt it."

They slowed as they neared the stairs that led out of the Hellsing underworld. A thin figure in rags was sitting, stretched across one of the steps, his back against the wall in his usual posture. The dusty, worn thing was staring at the door, where a line of ruddy sunlight from a shifting twilight glowed.

The creature heard the leisurely steps, the low tones of conversation and speculation. But Alucard was fixated on the light that burned his retinas, on the fresh coolness that had seeped into the floor and the wall at his back. And the air, the unsullied air - nearly night air - the chill burned in his nostrils, and seemed to blow dust from his dead lungs as he filled them.

He was completely limp, as he lay there, his head on his shoulder. He would blink languidly, and breathe deeply, but besides this, the creature did not move even as the men entered his space, and a few claimed steps of their own. The officer had a silver rod out, but he held it without much confidence, nothing resembling enthusiasm. But he would, if need be, use it on the vampire, as one might prod a reluctant pig into a slaughterhouse.

It was evident that the vampire did not want to leave his stair. He wanted the fresh air; he wanted to go outside. But the light lingered. And the day had been cloudless. The sun would be long in setting.

The officer shifted restlessly, glancing down at the rod, and then at the vampire. He had not held his current position in the Hellsing ranks for very long. This was the first time he had been tasked with fetching the creature from its cell. But he had observed the process before. He had tagged along. And no such insubordination or resistance had been witnessed on those occasions. So why did the vampire have to act up when he had been ordered to fetch the darned thing?

The officer sighed, coming to terms with his poor luck, and he stepped closer to the vampire. The officer occupied the steps just below Alucard's. He rolled the rod in his hand, the leather of his black glove creaking. He chewed the inside of his lip.

When the officer looked up, he saw that other men were watching the door. He read their thoughts before one asked, "Would it hurt to let him have an airing? Not to spoil him or anything. But… you know, it's for our own benefit. He's not the best smelling… _thing_, under the best of circumstances." And the man laughed here, as though this was the best way to describe to the vampire's current state.

The officer sighed, and scratched his head with the rod, his cap tilting and bobbing. Somehow the cap remained on his head, and the rod fell to his thigh, which he began to tap. "But the snow would…" He'd begun, intending to explain how the vampire might make a mess that they would then be in charge of cleaning up, but at the word 'snow' the creature had jolted with a manic excitement that left the officer standing rigid and confused beyond words.

"Yes," came a grunt. "Let's just toss the commander's pet vampire out into the sunlight, let him roll about in the slush, and then drag his stupid, charred carcass back inside and deliver him, like that, to the commander."

There was quiet, and then a nervous laugh from one of the men.


End file.
